The Woman in the Photo Read Free Page A

once on the day Lee was born.
    â€œTomorrow. Two thirty. I’ll wait for you in the car,” Lee said.
    Tears rose in Valerie’s light green eyes. She said, “We’ll have an adventure.”
    Lee kissed her mother’s cheek. She stretched to her full height. On her way back to the living room—such as it was—she noticed that her mother’s bed was already neatly made even though Mrs. Adell rarely checked before noon. Valerie’s “bedroom” was really a dressing room in the back of the pool house; her bed was so skinny it was more like a padded cot. Their bathroom consisted of a toilet and completely impractical pedestal sink. There was nowhere to put anything. They stored their toothbrushes in a mug on top of the toilet tank, which, Lee was pretty sure, was completely unsanitary. Don’t toothbrushes need to be kept at least six feet away from free-floating germs? Didn’t she read that in a dental pamphlet?
    The shower was outside, surrounded by a brown picket fence. If they were anywhere but North Beverly Park, it would be woefully backwoods. While they didn’t have to cart empty moonshine jugs down to the creek, last week a baby skunk waddled out of the mountain brush while Lee was outside showering. When she screamed, it sprayed a lawn chair by the pool. How many skunk families lived in that hill?
    It’s fun to shower outside when you don’t have to do it every day, even in the rain. Or worse, beneath the blaring Southern Californian sun. No lie, that shower sunburned Lee’s shoulders. Plus, she felt more naked outdoors, forever worried that the mailman would pop his head over the shower’s fencing with a certified letter flapping in his hand.
    Seriously, Lee still couldn’t believe they lived this way. Who could even imagine such a setup? Lately, it felt as if life itself was a sandbag on her shoulders. The events of the past year—and her current situation—were more than any eighteen-year-old should have be to bear.
    As the clock ticked past eight fifteen, Lee walked over to theglass wall overlooking the pool, opened the door, and stepped outside.
    â€œAren’t you too late for a shower?” Val asked, behind her.
    Feeling the prickle of sweat beneath her cotton cami, Lee briefly pretended not to hear her. Then she nodded and replied, “I need two minutes of fresh air.”
    Tilting her head back, she let her eyelids fall shut. She faced the deliciously forbidden fire of the sun. Unscreened rays, she knew, could burn in less than fifteen minutes. Still, she expanded her chest and filled her lungs. For a fleeting moment, she felt free. Her heartbreaks slipped to a far corner of her mind. In twenty-four hours, Lee Parker would be reborn. When government offices reopened after the holiday, she would finally be allowed to meet the girl who had been living inside her for eighteen years: her biological self.

CHAPTER 3

    Photo courtesy of the National Railroad Museum
    SOUTH FORK, PENNSYLVANIA
    Memorial Day
    May 30, 1889
    T he whistle shrills as the train begins its approach to South Fork Station: a weathered wood structure barely suitable for a lady. Unlike the summer arrival I am accustomed to, an odd quiet settles on the air despite the bustle of passengers onto the train at Altoona destined for the misty Memorial Day parade in Johnstown.
    â€œWe’re here.” Little Henry leaps up.
    â€œSit still, my precious.” Mother settles her son down. I watch as her beautiful fingers flit about the front buttons of his velveteen Fauntleroy jacket. She fluffs his lacy collar and calms the flyaway strands of his hair. She plucks lint. Mother’s spidery fingers are ideal for playing the piano. As are mine. We both excel at it. Last year, we entertained our holiday guests with a rousing duet of the most difficult “Mephisto Waltz.” Mr. Liszt himself would have been delighted.
    Obediently, Henry doesn’t move. As